(A/N I'm sorry the chapters are so short. Writing Larry fanfic off the top of the head is pretty hard for me. Just think of it as a James Patterson book. :) Thank you for reading. Continue...)

The door creaks open and Harry slides in. "I'm gonna have to wash my sheets now." he teases with a hint of uncertainty in his perfect features. I ignore it.

I look down at the sheets and smile. That's me on those sheets and I fucking love it.

He strides over and sits next to me with a smirk. He must be thinking about what just happened, just like I am. We sit in silence for a while, it's not awkward silence like I thought it would be.

He leans over to kiss me and I follow through with his plan. His tongue pushes through my lips and touches mine lightly before lapping over it. I revel in the feeling of his lips covering mine. I lean back and he follows me.

Slowly, my hand reaches down to the top of his pants and he grabs my wrist.

"I think we've had enough of that he says and I huff. I stand up groaning and look at my phone.

"My mum's gonna be worried about me." I lie. Well, is not a complete lie I am not exactly sure if my mum knows about my sneaking out but maybe, just maybe.

I turn and try to walk out the door, when I feel Harry's hand wrap around my wrist I spin around quickly.

"You'll come back right?" he asks with a shaky voice. I nod and turn back around. I reach for the for handle again and walk out of the room. Harry's mum, Anne is in the living room watching television so I don't bother her on the way out.

I open the front door and slip out quietly prepping for my short walk back home.

I walk into my house and look around to see if my mum is in the room. I hear her distant humming in the kitchen and walk in silently. Playfully, I put my hands over her eyes.

"Guess who." I joke. She turns and smiles at me.

"I know what's up, Louis." she says and I gasp dramatically. I grab my chest to add to the effect.

"What do you mean?" I say smiling. She returns the gesture.

"You met someone you like." she says happily. How did she know? Mother's intuition, I suppose. Not that I know a lot about mothers.

"How did you know?" I ask. She replies with "Mother's intuition" confirming my earlier thoughts.

"So, who is the lucky lady?" she asks and I mentally smack myself. I hope she doesn't take what I'm about to tell her to heart.